Forgiven
by TessaStarDean
Summary: Complete! Crossover with 24. After S5, Michelle shows up in NYC, and starts working with Mac Taylor and the team. MacMichelle, or MicMac as I like to call them. Will have seven parts.
1. Blinded

Even with his sunglasses on, Mac Taylor had to squint as he walked up to the crime scene. The city had seen several days of rain in the past week, and it was a relief to finally step into the light. But it felt now as though the sun were trying to make up for its absence, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust properly.

"Alright, Flack," he sighed. "What've we got?"

"One female vic, a Stephanie Miles. Twenty-five, bullet through the heart."

Mac turned his head sharply, surprised by the voice. The sun blinded him, making it impossible to identify the person beside him until they moved to stand in front of him.

"You're not Flack," he said, frowning in confusion.

The woman before him was medium height and build. Her dark auburn hair was swept up into a ponytail, a few curls dancing around her face. Deep brown eyes stared into his grey ones. She gave him a small smile.

"Very astute," she replied, sticking out her hand. "I'm Detective Michelle Dessler. Transfer from L.A."

Mac took her hand, noting the strength in her grip. "Mac Taylor. I'm sorry for the confusion…I was expecting another detective."

Michelle nodded. "Flack got called out to a case in the Park. So you're stuck with me."

He smiled. "I think I'll survive."

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"Detective Dessler?"

She swallowed quickly, setting her sandwich down on her desk.

"Please, call me Michelle."

Mac smiled, giving her a small nod. "Michelle. I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering what you got from your interviews with the family on the Miles case." He paused. "If you want, you could bring your lunch to my office while we work."

Smiling, she stood up. "Sounds great."

Mac led her down the corridors, turning slightly so that he could look at her. "So what made you come to New York?"

Michelle gave him a sideways glance. "I thought we were going to talk about the case."

He shrugged, showing her into his office and gesturing for her to take a seat. "I like to know who I'm working with."

"I find it hard to believe you haven't already pulled my file."

Mack chuckled. "Guilty as charged. But most of your file is classified, so I didn't learn much."

"What _did_ you find out?" she asked, and Mac though he heard some trepidation in her voice.

"You used to be a federal agent, although I don't know for which branch. It says that you're married –"

"_Used_ to be married," she broke in, her eyes downcast.

He heard the pain in her voice and decided to drop the subject. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out a file and opened it. "So what've we got on Stephanie Miles?"

Michelle gave him a grateful smile before taking a sip of her water. "From everything her friends and family said, she was a normal, happy woman. She was engaged, the wedding set for early next month –"

Mac held up a hand. "And the fiancé?"

"Clean. He was having a tux fitting at the time of the murder. Sales clerk and the vic's older brother confirmed."

"Did he know she was pregnant?"

She closed her eyes, exhaling. "No."

Mac nodded. "The M.E. said six weeks." He saw a flash of pain in her eyes and he leaned forward. "Are you alright?"

Michelle gave him a small smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just want to get this bastard."

He sat back in his seat, unconvinced, but willing to let it go for the time being. "Do you have anybody that looks good for it?"

"Not really. But the brother mentioned an ex-boyfriend. They only broke up a eight months ago, so there's a chance he wasn't too happy about her getting married to another guy."

"When are you heading out to talk to him?"

"As soon as I finish my sandwich," she said, taking another bite."

Mac nodded. "I'll go with you."

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Michelle was torn as she watched the young man in front of her. He was in near-hysterics about Stephanie, sobs escaping him as his shoulders shook with the force of his grief. A small part of her told her that she should be sympathizing with him, that she should be gentle in her questions. A larger part of her, however, didn't trust him at all, and suspected that the tears were an act. Trusting her instinct, she pushed.

"Mr. Davies…"

"I just can't believe she's gone..."

"Mr. Davies," she said more firmly. "I need you to focus." He looked at her then, tears still streaming down his face. Michelle took a deep breath. "When was the last time you saw Stephanie?"

Dustin thought for a minute. "Three months ago. We ran into each other in the Park."

"The Park is a pretty big place, Mr. Davies."

He shrugged. "That's what she said."

Mac stared at Dustin, his eyes roaming over his clothes and skin. Distantly, he heard Michelle's questions, but he focused more on the young man, knowing that the evidence wouldn't lie.

"You're sure that's the last time you saw her?" Michelle continued.

"Yes, of course…" His eyes grew large, his bottom lip trembling. "You don't think….I'm not a suspect, am I?"

"We need to rule everyone out, Mr. Davies. Did you know that Stephanie was pregnant?"

"How could I possibly know that?"

Before Michelle could ask another question, Mac stepped in. "Mr. Davies, could I have a look at your shoes, please?"

Dustin looked startled by the question. "What? Why?"

"I just want to look at them."

His surprise turned to fear. "Don't you need a warrant for that?"

Michelle shrugged. "We could go get one. But that would only make you look uncooperative."

Dustin stared at them both for a minute before standing up, his hands shaking. "I think you should both leave. If you want to talk to me again, you can call my lawyer first."

Mac stood up as well, moving toward the door. Michelle stayed for a moment longer.

"Have it your way, Mr. Davies," she said.

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"You won't believe who's in our interrogation room.

Michelle looked up from the paperwork on her desk to see Mac standing over her. She frowned in confusion.

"Who?"

"Dustin Davies."

"What? Why?"

"Said something about wanting to clear his name."

Michelle stood up, following Mac as they headed down the hall. "Is his lawyer with him?"

Mac shook his head. "Said he didn't want to look guilty. I told him he wasn't under arrest, and that he was free to leave or ask for his lawyer again at any time. He says he wants to cooperate."

"So we question him?"

"You up for it?"

"You have no idea."

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"I realized after you left…that I might have acted guilty. And I don't want you to think that I hurt Stephanie. I could never do that."

"I don't know if I believe that, Dustin," Michelle said, sitting across from him.

"But I loved her!"

She shook her head. "I think you were obsessed with her. We were in your apartment, we saw the pictures you still had of her."

"She was important to me –"

"You broke up eight months ago."

"So?" he asked, his voice rising. "Does that mean that we just forget about each other, about what we had? We were meant to be together!"

Michelle noted the fire in his eyes, knowing that Mac was doing the same behind the two-way mirror. There was definitely something off about this kid, and her suspicion that he was the killer only continued to grow.

"But she was marrying someone else, Dustin. She was having a baby. She had moved on from you."

"NO!" he yelled, slamming his hand down on the table. "She was going to come back to me. She knew that scumbag wasn't good enough for her!"

"Admit it – you couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone else – so you killed her!"

"She was a whore!" Dustin screamed. "She didn't deserve to be happy – her or that bastard child!"

Michelle was up in an instant, her hand around Dustin's throat as she pushed him against the wall.

"You think you're a man?" she gritted out, her face mere centimeters from his. "Putting a bullet through a pregnant woman? You're nothing but a coward. You saw her being happy and you realized that you might never have that." Dustin pushed at her, but Michelle just tightened her grip. "Admit it!" she commanded. "You weren't happy, so you decided to take away her happiness too – nevermind the fiancé whose entire life you stole!"

There were arms on her suddenly, pulling her back. She was vaguely aware of Mac shouting at her as he led her away from the suspect. Her breathing was labored, and her hands were shaking – she had wanted to choke the life out of that kid.

She didn't say anything until they were in his office, the door closed, shutting out the rest of the lab. Mac finally let go of her, coming around to face her.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked. "You can't assault a suspect, Michelle!"

"He did it!" she yelled back. "And we both know it, Mac! He killed her because he couldn't stand to see her happy – he ruined their lives just as they were about to start! He took a baby away from the fiancé! He destroyed them!"

Mac saw the pain in her eyes, and he knew that this went deeper in the case. He found himself wanting to know who had hurt her so much, who had taken the joy out of her life. He thought back to the file, and her comment that she used to be married…had someone taken her husband from her?

"Michelle," he said quietly, moving closer and taking a hold of her arms. "I know that you want to get this guy – I do too. But this isn't the way, and you know that. If you really want to get him, we have to play by the rules."

She sighed, and he felt the fight go out of her. "I know," she murmured. "I just don't get it, Mac…how could anyone want to hurt someone like that?"

"I don't know," he replied. "But we're going to find out."

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"I have a present for you," Mac said, meeting Michelle as she came into the lab.

"Oh?"

He handed her a piece of paper. "Search warrant for Dustin Davies' apartment and car."

She stopped, staring down at it. "What? How did you get this?"

He shrugged. "I know a judge. I told him about all the pictures, and the blood I thought I saw on his shoes, and he went for it."

"Is this judge senile?"

Mac smiled. "Getting there."

"Well, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Let's go."

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Danny walked into the living room, where Michelle and Mac sat with Dustin. A satisfied smile on his face, he handed a pair of shoes in a bag to Mac.

"I confirmed that the blood in the treads belongs to Stephanie Miles, and the dust is a match to that found at the crime scene. And," he said, holding up another bag, "a .45, same caliber as the gun that shot Stephanie."

Michelle stood up, a grim smile on her lips. "Dustin Davies," she said, yanking his arms behind his back, "you are under arrest for murder."

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Mac left the office around eleven – an early night for him. He walked out onto the sidewalk, noticing the slight drizzle that was falling. As he turned to make his way home, he noticed Michelle standing a little further down, her face lifted to the sky.

"Michelle?"

She turned to look at him, a small smile on her face. "Hey, Mac."

"Do you normally stand out in the rain?"

She shrugged. "It feels good. Almost like it's washing the case away, you know?"

He nodded, understanding all too well. "You did good, Michelle."

Laughing, she shook her head. "You mean the part where I tried to choke the suspect? Yeah, that was great."

"We all get too involved sometimes," he said quietly.

Michelle heard the deeper meaning in his voice, the unasked question. "Even you?" she asked.

"Even me." He stuck out his hand. "I look forward to working with you again," he said, a playful smile on his lips.

She shook his hand, and he found himself once again marveling at the strength there; but this time, he was startled by the softness of her skin as well, and the way her hand fit into his.

"You can bet on it, Taylor."


	2. Eloquent

"Hey."

Mac looked up to see Don standing in the doorway to his office.

"Flack," he greeted. "What can I do for you?"

"We're headin' out to get some food and a drink – celebrate gettin' that scumbag off the streets. You wanna come?"

Mac smiled. "You know what? I'd like that."

"Good. I'm gonna go invite Dessler, too. She really helped out on this one."

"I'll go get her," the older man offered. "I have some paperwork to give her anyway."

Flack shrugged. "Okay. Meet you outside in ten?"

"Yeah."

When Don left his office, Mac looked down at his desk. He didn't really have a file that he needed to take down to Michelle…but something about Flack asking her to go with them bothered him. He debated picking up a file anyway, to make it look like he had to go see her, but on further thought, he decided against it – she'd see through the ruse in a heartbeat, and Mac would just be left more embarrassed and nervous than he already was.

As he walked down to her desk, Mac wondered at that. He was definitely a little nervous about asking her to go to dinner with them, but he knew that he shouldn't be. She was just another member of the team, another friend.

She was putting on her coat when he reached her desk. One of her sleeves was almost inside out, and she was having trouble getting her arm in. Mac came up behind her quietly, taking the coat and guiding her arm in gently. Michelle turned in surprise at the contact, smiling when she saw who it was.

"Hey, Mac," she said warmly.

"Hi. Are you leaving?"

She nodded. "Finally. It's been a long day."

"A good one though."

Her smile broadened. "A very good one." She paused, waiting for him to speak. "Was there something you needed?"

His stomach tightened, and he stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to look nonchalant. "The others…we're all going out for some dinner…to celebrate closing the case. I thought maybe you'd like to come."

Michelle stopped, completely caught off-guard by the invitation. The others had been nothing but kind to her, but it was still a pleasant surprise to have them reach out to her.

"I don't want to intrude…"

"You're not," Mac interrupted. "The invitation came straight from them."

Her smile appeared again. "Then I would love to come."

Mac couldn't help but smile in return. "Great."

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The atmosphere at the table was light, as they sat around, joking and telling stories. Michelle couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard – or at all, really. But these people had accepted her quickly, and she was starting to feel…at home with them.

"The thief rappelled down the side of the building?" she asked, listening to Danny tell stories about old cases.

The C.S.I. nodded. "And the best part? Donnie was there. The thieves had managed to hit his girlfriend's apartment." He turned to his friend. "That was Devon, wasn't it?"

Flack rolled his eyes. "Yeah."

Michelle looked around. "Do we not like Devon?"

"That was when Don was…slumming it with the rich crowd," she laughed.

"Yeah, until she realized she could do a hell of a lot better than a cop," Danny added.

"Hey, hey, hey…" Don interrupted. "I'll have you know that _I_ broke up with _her_, thank you very much."

"And why was that?" Lindsay asked.

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I realized how…vapid…she could be."

The table erupted into laughter, Michelle included. She watched as Stella laid a hand on Don's arm as she leaned into him, still laughing. Danny and Lindsay were sitting close as well, and their level of comfort with each other began to confirm some of the detective's suspicions.

"So Michelle…" Flack asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Let's talk about you."

She quickly swallowed the drink she had in her mouth. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. You've been here three months and I feel like we don't really know anything about you."

Lindsay chuckled. "Don't worry, they did this to me when I joined the team, too."

"As long as I'm not the only one." She looked around warily. "What do you want to know?"

Stella posed the first question. "Where are you from?"

"L.A. Born and raised."

"Do you miss the weather?"

Michelle shrugged. "Not really. I like that you guys have actual seasons."

"Were you a cop out there?" Flack asked.

"Not exactly."

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She glanced over at Mac. She could see the curiosity in his eyes, as he wondered how much she was going to share. Usually she sidestepped any of his questions when it came to her past in L.A.

"I was a federal agent," she finally answered. They opened their mouths to ask more questions, but she held up a hand, stalling them with a smile. "But that's all I can tell you. At least for now."

Danny grumbled – he had never expected the federal agent route. But with that door closed, he came up with another question.

"You married?"

Michelle could feel Mac tense beside her. He had studiously avoided the subject since the first case they worked together. He remembered the pain in her voice, and in her eyes; whatever had happened, it had obviously been hard, and he hadn't wanted to push her into telling him. But now the question was out there, and the table was waiting for an answer.

She gave them all a sad smile, her gaze dropping down to her nearly-finished plate. "I used to be."

"Divorced?" Danny asked, not catching her body language.

Michelle shook her head. "No. He died."

The table went silent. Danny closed his eyes, cursing his big mouth – if he had just paid attention, he would have been able to see that he was walking on dangerous ground. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes again and looked right at Michelle.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean –"

She waved is apology off. "I know you didn't. It's okay, Danny. It would have come out eventually." She could feel Mac looking at her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "It's just still a sore subject."

The C.S.I. nodded, biting back any other questions that they had. The team sat without talking for a few minutes, the air tense.

"Well congratulations, Messer – you managed to officially kill dinner," Flack finally said.

That broke the tension, and they all chuckled.

"I think we were all done anyway," Stella pointed out.

"What about dessert?" Danny asked.

Lindsay shrugged. "There's an ice cream place a couple blocks over."

They all agreed, and stood up. Mac and Don took care of the bill before heading outside with the rest of them. Seeing Michelle hanging behind slightly, Mac joined her.

"Are you okay?"

She gave him a small smile. "I'm fine. Nothing a little ice cream won't fix."

He laughed at that, and without thinking about it, placed his hand on the small of her back as he led her out of the restaurant.

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Michelle quietly enjoyed her chocolate ice cream cone as the six of them wandered down the sidewalk. She and Mac had fallen to the back, while the others walked closely together, chatting and laughing.

"So…" she finally said, pointing forward with her ice cream cone, "tell me about Danny and Lindsay."

"What about them?" Mac asked, enjoying his own cone.

"They're together, aren't they?"

He nodded. "For almost a year now. They've had a few rough patches, but…I think they're good together."

"They seem happy." Mac heard the catch in her voice, but she was already moving on before he could ask. "What about Flack and Stella?"

He smiled at that. "That hasn't happened…yet."

"Yet?" she asked, looking at him with a sly smile.

"It's been building for a while now…I think they'll get together soon."

"And that doesn't bother you?" she asked. "That your team is pairing off?"

Mac shrugged. "I know it's against department rules, but…they're all really good at keeping it off the job. And who am I to deny anyone the little happiness they can find?"

She watched him for a minute, weighing her options. It seemed that Mac Taylor was just as protective about his past and feelings as she was, but she was dying to know more about him.

"What about you?" she finally asked. "Are you married?"

His eyes grew distant. "I was." Looking over at her, he answered her unspoken question. "She died."

Without thinking, Michelle reached out for his hand, squeezing it. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Mac smiled at her sadly, surprised at how cold his hand felt when she let go again. "It's okay. It was a few years ago."

They walked in silence then, both wrapped in their own thoughts. Michelle now understood one of the reasons she felt so drawn to the man beside her – he shared her pain.

"What was her name?" she asked, needing to talk to push away her own dark thoughts.

Mac smiled as he pictured his wife. "Claire. She was…amazing. She put up with me like no one else could. She used to tease me...that as take-charge as I was in the military, and on the job…I was never good with making speeches; I was never eloquent. I even stumbled through my wedding vows."

"You still miss her."

Mac looked over at her again, feeling the unspoken question. The pain was in her eyes again, and he knew that she needed some kind of answer.

"I don't think that ever goes away," he said quietly. "But…you can miss someone and still live your life."

"Are you sure?" she asked, and she sounded so small right then that Mac had to fight off the temptation to embrace her. Instead, he walked just a little bit closer, letting his knuckles brush against hers.

"I'm sure," he whispered.


	3. Sensual

Michelle tried not to fidget as she stood outside Mac's office. She reminded herself that this was nothing, that she was just being friendly. Straightening her top, she raised a trembling hand and knocked.

"Come in."

When she opened the door, she saw Mac Taylor sitting behind his desk. His tie had been removed, and the top couple of buttons on his blue shirt were undone. Trying to look casual, Michelle leaned against the doorframe and smiled.

"Don't you ever take a lunch break?" she asked.

He looked up at her and returned the smile. "Once in a while."

Michelle pushed herself off of the door, crossing the room and taking a seat across from him. "Well, today is one of those times."

He watched her curiously as she held up a lunch bag. Reaching in, she pulled out a large sandwich and broke it in half. She gave him a nervous half-smile as she handed him one piece. Then she pulled out a bag of chips and two bottles of water. Mac couldn't help but smile.

"This is very nice, Michelle."

She shrugged. "Everybody needs to eat." She gestured at the sandwich in his hands. "I hope you like chicken salad."

"I do."

They ate in companionable silence. Michelle tried to think of something to say, some way to strike up a conversation. But as the silence continued, she realized that things were comfortable as they were, and that, for the moment, nothing needed to be said.

She wanted to curse when the phone on his desk suddenly rang. Mac sighed, and his shoulders slumped a little, as though he was just as frustrated at the interruption as she was. The phone began its third ring, and he reached out to pick it up.

"Taylor."

Michelle tried her best not to eavesdrop – not that there was really that much for her to overhear. The conversation seemed to be mostly one-sided as Mac repeated a series of "Yes, sirs" and "I understand, sirs." The call lasted three minutes at the most, and Mac somehow looked even more tired than usual when he hung up.

"You okay?" Michelle asked.

He sighed. "That was the captain…I'm sure you've gotten your invitation to the Commissioner's Ball next week?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"I take it you're about as excited about it as I am, then."

"I haven't enjoyed social gatherings since…since Tony died." Just the mention of his name caused waves of pain to shoot through her, and she closed her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Mac said quietly.

Opening her eyes once again, Michelle gave him a smile and shook her head. "It's fine. I brought it up." She nodded to the phone. "So what did the captain want?"

"He called to remind me that my presence is required. And then informed me that I'm not allowed to show up alone and brooding."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Alone and brooding?"

"His words, not mine." He sighed again.

"It's exhausting, isn't it?" she asked. "The whole idea of having to find someone you can stand to spend an evening with?"

Mac glanced at her, a rueful smile on his face. "I see I'm not the only one who doesn't relish the thought."

She bit her lip, thinking. There was every chance that he would turn her down, or that he already had someone else in mind, but…

"Why don't we go together?" When his head snapped up to look at her in surprise, Michelle blushed. "I mean…there's no pressure that way. The captain gets off your back, and I don't have to worry about going alone and looking like a wallflower all night –"

"I'd love to."

Both were caught off-guard by the eagerness in his voice. Ducking her head, Michelle tried to hide the blush that continued to grow.

"Really?"

Mac nodded. "Really."

She opened her mouth to say something else, but both their cell phones went off. Smiling, he finished his half of the sandwich before standing up and grabbing his jacket as Michelle did the same.

"Thanks for lunch," he said quietly as they moved out into the corridor.

Michelle was starting to run out of curses for the blushing.

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"Michelle!"

She turned to see Stella coming up behind her in the hallway. Giving her a small smile, she waited for the other detective to catch up. 

"Hey Stella," she greeted. "What's up?"

"I wanted to ask a favor of you."

"Okay."

"I heard you and Mac are going to the Commissioner's Ball together." Stella saw the look of fear that flashed through her coworker's eyes, and she rushed to finish her thought. "I was hoping maybe you and I could go dress shopping this weekend? I've got absolutely nothing to wear."

Michelle breathed a little sigh of relief. She knew that Stella and Mac were close friends, and a part of her worried what the other woman thought of her. Giving her a smile, she nodded.

"I'd love to. I can't tell you the last time I had to buy a dress…in fact, I'm kind of dreading it."

Stella laid a hand on her arm. "Don't worry – I know all the best stores in town…and where they're having the best sales. It won't be nearly as painful as you think."

"Sounds good." The two of them walked on a little further before Michelle gave the other woman a sly side-glance. "So who are you going with?"

Stella tried to stop the glowing smile that threatened to break out, but she was unsuccessful. Instead she just rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Flack asked me."

Michelle grinned. "From what I hear, that's been a long time coming."

"Remind me to kill Mac later."

She shrugged. "You two are good together, Stella. And I'm glad you're happy – you deserve it."

Stella blushed. "Thank you. I have to get back to work, but…Saturday? I'll come by your apartment and we'll find dresses?"

"Absolutely."

She nodded. "Good." With a small wave, Stella turned and walked back towards the lab.

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"It's pink," Michelle objected.

"It's fuchsia, and it's hot."

"I don't do pink."

"Trust me, Michelle. It's hot."

The detective turned around, looking at herself in the mirror. The dress was very pink, but it was dark, and she had to admit that the color made her skin glow. Thick straps formed a halter around her neck, and the fabric hugged every curve that she had. Michelle hated to admit it, but Stella was right…the dress was hot. But she still had one nagging doubt.

"Do you think…"

Stella nodded. "Mac's jaw will hit the floor when he sees you."

Michelle looked down, embarrassed that Stella could read her so well. The other detective reached out to lay her hand on her arm. 

"It's okay, Michelle. It's not wrong to have feelings for him."

She shook her head. "I don't –"

"You do," Stella insisted gently. "And it's okay. Truth be told…I think he feels the same way."

"I don't think I'm ready," Michelle whispered.

"You don't have to be," she assured her. "But at that ball, you are going to knock his socks off, and you are going to have a good time. Do you understand me?"

Michelle smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I got it." She paused. "Thanks, Stell."

"Anytime. Now come on…I need a dress, too."

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Mac found that he couldn't breathe. For the first time in years, he found himself caught completely off-guard, and he couldn't stop staring. The rest of the world fell away, leaving him feeling as though he were the only man in the room.

The original plan had been to pick Michelle up at her apartment and arrive at the Commissioner's Ball together. Work, however, had different plans, and an urgent case had come up at the last minute. Apologizing profusely, he promised that he would meet her at the Ball shortly.

It wasn't until he arrived that he realized they hadn't set down where exactly they were going to meet inside. He wasn't sure that she had her cell phone on her, and he didn't know if she would have found them a table or if she would be mingling.

Despite that, he had found her – and now he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was standing at the top of the center stairway, laughing and talking with Stella and Flack. He didn't get to see her smile often, and he found himself smiling in return, even though she hadn't noticed him yet.

On any other woman, he might have found the color of the dress to be unusual, but on her…it took his breath away. It hugged her every curve, and Mac found his eyes traveling the length of her body before he could stop himself. Her skin glowed, and thin tendrils of hair escaped from her bun to trail down along the graceful slope of her shoulders.

It had been a long time since Mac had been so physically taken away by a woman, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. He knew that the attraction went deeper, perhaps even much deeper, but he also knew that now wasn't the time to take that step. 

Before his thoughts could go any further, Michelle turned and saw him. Somehow her smile grew even brighter, and Mac's chest constricted. He silently reminded himself that this was not a date, and that he was most certainly not courting Detective Dessler. But as she swept down the stairs toward him, his mind almost completely shut down on him.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hi…you look…amazing."

She flushed. "Thanks. You don't look so shabby yourself."

It was then that Mac caught a hint of her perfume. The smell intoxicated him, and it was the only reason he could come up with for his next question.

"Would you like to dance?"

"I would love to."

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Michelle was scared to death – there really wasn't any other way to put it. As Mac led her out onto the dance floor and turned to wrap and arm around her waist, she was afraid that she would actually turn and run. But at the touch of his hand on the small of her back, and the feel of his other hand in hers, she knew that she wasn't going anywhere.

She kept telling herself that this couldn't happen, but at the same time, she knew she was falling. It left the same exhilarating feeling in the pit of her stomach as it had when she and Tony had first started flirting. Her heart hurt at the comparison, and she wasn't quite sure if it was grief or guilt, or maybe a mixture of the two. All she knew was that this thing with Mac was something…something she had never expected to feel ever again.

As they began to move to the music, Mac pulled her even closer, until there was barely any space between their bodies. Michelle wanted to be closer – cursed herself, in fact, for the desire – but she restrained herself from resting her head on his shoulder. Instead, she positioned herself so that they were dancing almost cheek to cheek, both able to feel the heat of the other's skin. 

It was then that she realized he was wearing cologne. It was faint, just enough to make her want to inch ever closer, to bury her face in the crook of his neck so that she could just breathe him in. She closed her eyes, resisting those urges, but also continuing to enjoy the closeness of his body. 

The song was over before she even realized that there was music playing, and it was time for them to separate. Even as they did so, however, Mac left his hand in the curve of her back, so that he could guide her over to the table where Flack, Stella, Danny, Lindsay and Hawkes were all sitting. Michelle tried to regain control of herself, pulling her mind out of the fog that had enveloped her during the dance. Smiling, she sat down with the others, enjoying the distraction from what had just happened out on the floor. 

This was definitely something more.

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The rest of the evening passed by in a blur of talking, laughing, eating and dancing. For the first time in a long time, Michelle felt as though she was finally accepted again, finally a part of something. She and Stella and Lindsay got along well, talking about the guys and joking about everything under the sun. She could toss barbs back and forth with Danny and Flack without any hesitation, and she and Hawkes could talk about anything ranging from art and music to the latest discoveries in medicine. She had almost forgotten what it was like to have friends.

As the night came to a close, Mac came up behind her, holding her jacket. Giving him a grateful smile, he helped her slip it on, and then led her outside.

"Thank you for coming with me," he said quietly. "I didn't think it was possible to enjoy myself at one of these functions."

"I had a good time, too."

"Can I take you home?"

The question caught Michelle completely off-guard. She opened her mouth to say something – anything – but nothing came out. Before the moment could get awkward, though, Mac's cell phone rang. He sighed, his smile slipping.

"Taylor…yeah…are you sure?...Alright, I'll be right there." Closing the phone, he looked up at Michelle apologetically. "I'm sorry. There's been a break in the case…I have to get back to the lab right away."

She gave him a small smile, resting a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Mac. Go."

He raised a hand, hailing her a cab. As the yellow taxi pulled up beside them, shrugged. "The least I can do is hail you a cab."

Michelle wasn't sure what came over her, but she found herself stepping forward and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Mac. I needed this."

She could have sworn he blushed. "It was my pleasure."

Nodding, she turned and opened the cab door. She looked back at him, wanting to say something else, wanting to somehow put into words what she was feeling. Instead, she reached out, resting her hand against his cheek. 

"Goodnight, Mac."

"Goodnight, Michelle," he murmured, watching as she shut the door and the cab disappeared into the night.


	4. Rose

"Morning."

Michelle looked up to see Mac standing next to her. Reaching out, he handed her a cup of coffee; she couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you," she said warmly, taking the cup. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "It was on my way." He nodded to the crime scene in front of them. "What have we got?"

"Claire Phillips. Thirty-two years old. She took a bullet to the center of the forehead. No defensive wounds."

Mac kneeled by the body, staring at it intently. The victim lay sprawled out on the floor right by the front door, one arm flung above her head. Her long brown hair was fanned out around her face, and the only thing to mar her beauty was the red bullet hole in the middle of her forehead.

But it was her eyes that drew his focus. A fresh red rose petal rested over each eye, making the whole scene look like some antiquated burial ritual. He looked up at Michelle in question.

"There are roses in the kitchen," she explained. "A dozen."

Danny walked into the room from deeper in the house. "If they came from a florist, there's nothin' to tell us who. No fingerprints, no car, nothin'."

Mac got to his feet again. "What am I smelling?"

Hawkes spoke up as Lindsay joined them. "Perfume. It's on the rose petals and the vic's wrists."

"Very high-end perfume," Lindsay added, holding up a bottle. "I found this in her room."

"Wait a second." Everyone stopped and looked at Hawkes, still kneeling next to the body. "There's a small needle mark in her side. Could explain why she didn't put up a fight."

Mac nodded, taking everything in. "Alright – Hawkes, I want you to find out what she was injected with. Danny, Lindsay, work on the roses – get everything you can from them. Michelle and I will do the interviews."

Nodding their agreement, the team separated to carry out their tasks.

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Michelle watched the couple sitting in front of her, feeling the pain rolling off of them in waves. This was the part of the job that she hated the most – informing parents, spouses, children and lovers that someone in their life was no longer with them. It still amazed her how many reactions there were; some people fell to the ground, others screamed, while others went quiet, their entire body going still. It always reminded her of her own reaction, when Bill had told her…

"Mr. Phillips," Mac said, interrupting her thoughts. "Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt your daughter?"

The older man shook his head firmly, his arm tightening around the shoulders of his wife. "No. Claire was a good girl."

"Was she seeing anyone?" Michelle asked.

"No. And before you go thinking that she wouldn't tell us, let me tell you you're wrong. She's always been open with us, even when she was seeing a boy she knew we wouldn't like. She always said she'd rather be honest with us from the beginning than worry about breaking the news to us later."

"What did she do for a living?"

"She was a teacher," Mrs. Phillips answered, her voice wavering with emotion. "She loved children."

Mac stepped in again. "Did she say anything to you lately? Any weird phone calls? Did she feel like she was being followed."

"No, nothing like that."

He nodded and stood up, Michelle doing the same only a second later. "Thank you," he said quietly. "We'll call when we find something."

The couple murmured their agreement, and the two detectives quietly stepped out of the house. Once outside, Michelle breathed a sigh of relief.

"That never gets easier, does it?" she asked.

Mac shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. And it didn't give us any leads, either."

"You want to check out the school next?"

"Seems like our best bet."

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After interviewing everyone at the school, the detectives walked back out to the car in silence. Mac got behind the steering wheel while Michelle climbed into the passenger's seat, but no move was made to start the engine.

"Either Claire Phillips was the best secret-keeper in the world, or this girl really had no reason to be killed."

Mac nodded, glancing over at his partner. "And I'm going to go with the latter. I don't think she would have lied to all those people. If she thought she was being followed, or if she was having an argument…she would have told one of them."

"So what does that leave us with?" Michelle asked.

"At the moment, nothing. But that's why we have C.S.I.s as well as detectives." When she glanced over at him with a questioning glance, Mac smiled. "We follow the evidence."

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"There's a good reason Claire Phillips didn't have any defensive wounds," Hawkes stated as Michelle, Mac, Danny and Lindsay joined him in the lab. "She was physically unable."

"Why?" Danny asked.

"She was injected with Curare," he explained. "It's a paralysis-inducing toxin from South America. Which means she was on the floor in a matter of seconds, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. From there, all the guy had to do was shoot her."

"Pretty easy murder," Lindsay commented. "At least as far as murders go. Chances are, he didn't know the vic well."

Mac nodded. "Lindsay's right. There's no passion here. It wasn't a heated argument or born out of desperation. This was calculated. The perp went there with the drug already in the syringe."

"Premeditated," Michelle mumbled. "So how do we find the bastard?"

"We stay on him," Mac replied. He turned to Danny and Lindsay. "Did you get anything from the roses?"

Danny nodded. "Looks they were fed with a very high-end plant food. I guess rich people like to pamper their flowers."

The older man frowned. "Claire Phillips wasn't rich by any stretch of the imagination. That perfume we found was an indulgence, according to her parents. It was a treat to herself."

"Well we got the address to the three florists in Manhattan that use this particular brand of plant food," Danny continued. "I figure we can go check 'em out."

Mac's phone rang then, interrupting them. He answered it, having a terse conversation before hanging up.

"That's going to have to wait," he told them. "We've got another victim."

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Michelle felt as though she'd gone back in time. Standing in the middle of the foyer, it was the same scene they had come upon days earlier. The only difference was that it wasn't Claire Phillips who lay on the floor, but a younger woman, her brunette hair held back in a low ponytail.

"Who is she?" she asked.

Mac sighed. "Julia Nichols, age twenty-four. This is her parents' house – they're both at work."

"Same M.O.," Hawkes said.

"And the same flowers in the kitchen," Lindsay added. "And the same expensive perfume in the bedroom."

"Looks like we've got a serial killer on our hands," Danny commented.

"We need to talk to that florist," Michelle murmured.

Mac nodded. "Then let's go."

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The young man behind the counter looked up as Mac approached him. He immediately plastered a polite, but fake, smile on his face as though he wanted nothing in the world but to please the next customer.

"Welcome to _Giordano's_, sir. How can I help you?"

Mac pulled two photographs out of his jacket pocket and slid them across the glass counter. "Have you ever seen either of these two women in here before?"

He frowned, looking at both photos carefully. "I'm sorry, sir, but no. I've never seen them before."

"And you're here how often?"

"Every day, sir. Eight to five."

Mac sighed, letting his gaze wander around the store. There were two more florists on the list from Danny, and it looked like they were going to have to check them out. His gaze rested on Michelle for a moment, and he watched her run a gentle hand over a rose.

"Sir?"

The detective shook himself, focusing back on the problem at hand. "What about your sale of red roses? Has there been an increase lately?"

"Actually, yes."

That caught Mac's attention, and he looked at the man intently. "Has one person in particular been buying them?"

"Yes. A man. I couldn't really put an age to him, but he isn't old or young. Brown hair, medium height, medium build. There's really nothing special about him."

"How did he pay?"

"Cash. Every time."

"Alright. I'm going to have you come into the station and sit down with a sketch artist." The clerk opened his mouth to protest, but Mac cut him off. "You can find someone to cover your shift for a couple hours. This is a murder investigation."

He sighed. "Let me go tell my manager."

As the young man walked away, Mac turned his attention back to the store. Michelle was still standing by the roses, apparently lost in thought. Quietly, he moved up beside her, standing there in silence until she was ready to talk.

"I never liked roses," she said quietly.

"No?"

She looked up and smiled at him. "Lilacs have always been my favorite." Pausing, she bit her lower lip in thought before continuing. "Tony bought me roses on our first date. He had no idea I didn't like them. He was so embarrassed."

"Claire liked tulips," Mac said, unsure of why exactly he was telling her.

But the comment made her smile return. "You were right, you know."

"About what?"

"You learn to live with it."

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the clerk returning. He settled for letting his hand brush against hers as they left the flower shop.

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"This sketch doesn't help much," Danny commented.

Mac had called the team to a meeting in his office. He passed out the drawing from the clerk's description as they plotted out their next move.

"The flower shop has sold more than five dozen roses to this guy," he told them. "That means he has at least three more intended victims."

"But where does he find them?" Lindsay asked. "Where is the one place that these women go?"

"The answer's in the perfume."

They all looked up to see Michelle standing in the doorway. There was a satisfied smile on her face, and a bounce in her stance that told them she was itching to go somewhere.

"What are you talking about?" Mac asked.

"I dug through their lives, looking for any place they might intersect," she explained, coming fully into the room. "And the _only_ thing that they had in common is the perfume."

Danny sighed. "I don't suppose that only a few stores carry it?"

Michelle's smile broadened. "Only one. And I sent another detective over there with the sketch – a man who looks just like the guy from the flower shop is there every Thursday afternoon for the past two months."

"Today is Thursday," Lindsay interjected.

Danny caught on. "And Michelle is a brunette, just like our vics."

Mac shook his head firmly, seeing where the others were going. "No."

Michelle's face fell. "Why not?"

"It's too risky," he said, not meeting her eyes. "We can –"

"This is our best shot, Mac," she said, stepping closer to him. "We can control the situation."

He wanted to argue with her, but none of his reasons were appropriate. He just knew that he couldn't stand to put this women in danger – he couldn't risk losing her. But before he could say anything, Lindsay stepped in.

"She's right, Mac. If we don't get this guy now, we might have another victim on our hands."

He couldn't argue with that. Turning back toward his desk so that they couldn't see his eyes, he nodded. "Fine. Set it up."

His two C.S.I.s nodded and left the room. When Michelle turned to do the same, his hand shot out, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him.

"You be careful," he said quietly, his face inches from hers. "I'm not willing to lose anyone today."

She gently took his hand off of her arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then she turned and walked out, leaving him alone.

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Michelle new that she was surrounded. There were cops outside in cars, with listening devices that would let them know exactly what was going on inside the store. Two more cops were out on the sidewalk, posing as a couple window shopping on a sunny afternoon. They would take note of everyone that walked into the store.

Mac was even closer. He was hidden in the manager's room on the other side of the counter. The door was closed, but she could feel him in there, his tension invading her senses. He had wanted her in this position, and as she leaned over to look at a bottle of perfume at the counter, she wondered at the vehemence in his voice when he told her to be careful.

The little bell above the door jingled, telling her that someone had just entered the store. Keeping herself calm, she didn't look up, but continued her inspection of the products in front of her. Her earpiece crackled.

"Possible suspect moving towards the counter," Danny's voice murmured.

Out of the corner of her eye, Michelle saw the most average-looking man she had ever seen in her life come to stand beside her. He seemed to be just as absorbed as she in his shopping. Not sparing him a glance, she flagged one of the clerks.

"Can I help you ma'am?" the young girl asked.

"I was wondering if I could test the _Calmonica_," she said, indicating the perfume owned by both the victims.

"Of course."

Michelle wasn't sure what gave her away – if it was simply her asking for the perfume, or if they had somehow thrown his plan off. But either way, the suspect knew that he had walked into a trap, and he didn't seem to think that turning and walking out of the store was an option. She saw the flash of steel, but there wasn't enough time for her to pull her weapon.

A shot fired, and the suspect beside her suddenly crumbled to the ground. A large hunting blade fell out of his hand as he grabbed his leg, yelling in pain. Michelle looked up in confusion to see Mac standing behind the counter on the far end of the store, gun in hand.

The other cops moved in quickly, securing the suspect and getting him onto a gurney. They would have to get him medical attention before they could question him about the two murders. Michelle tried to maneuver through them toward Mac, but he strode out of the store without a glance in her direction. Finally getting outside of the store, she joined Danny and Lindsay outside, watching him walk away – but she was sure she was the only one who saw the shake in his hands.

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Sitting behind his desk, Mac tried to get a hold of his emotions. It bothered him how protective he had become over Michelle; there was no reason that she should be any different from the rest of the team.

But he knew that she was, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. It had been almost a year since she had come to New York, and in that time that had become friends. They went out for drinks after work, and occasionally they even opened up about the loved ones they had lost. He felt closer to her than he had to anyone in a long time…and he knew that it was time he admitted that his feelings went far deeper than friendship.

When he saw the suspect pull a knife, it was like something inside of him snapped. What he had told her was true – he wasn't willing to lose anyone else, especially not her. Without a second thought, he was out of the manager's office and into the store, his gun drawn. His only thought had been to keep the suspect from hurting Michelle.

A knock on his door interrupted him, and he looked up to see the woman in question standing just inside his office. A nervous smile graced her lips, and he was once again struck by her beauty.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hi."

"You saved my life today."

He heard the something else in her voice, the feelings that she wasn't quite ready to admit to either. Ducking his head, he tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him.

"I told you I wasn't losing anybody."

She nodded. "Let me take you to dinner."

His head snapped up, eyes meeting hers. "What?"

Smiling, Michelle shrugged. "It's the least I can do. Consider it an attempt to start repaying the debt."

Mac shook his head. "You don't have to do that –"

"I know," she said. "I want to."

His first reaction was to say no, to brush her off so that she would go away and he could get control of the situation again. But his own words betrayed him.

"When?"

"Does now work for you?"

Mac realized that fighting this was futile, and he set down his pen. Maybe things would go easier for him if he just accepted his feelings, accepted the way he felt swept away every time she walked into the room. With a small smile on his face he stood up, grabbing his jacket.

"Now is perfect."


	5. Flavor

"A diner?" Mac asked as they got out of the cab.

Michelle shrugged. "I figured the last thing either of us wanted to do right now was go to some fancy place. I'd rather be comfortable."

He gave her a small smile. "Me too."

The place wasn't too crowded, and they found a seat easily. Sliding into the booth, Michelle watched her friend closely, noting that the shaking in his hands had finally stopped. There was still worry in his eyes, however, and she found herself amazed at how protective he had become.

When the waitress had taken their order and gone away again, Michelle reached out and rested her hand on top of his.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Mac," she said softly. "Talk to me."

He looked down at their hands for a long time. Michelle kept her gaze on his face, watching the way he worked through what he wanted to say. She wished he would just open up to her, be completely honest with her. But she knew that she couldn't do that yet, either, so she couldn't really expect it of him.

"Mac…"

"I was afraid."

Her mouth fell open at his words. She hadn't been entirely sure that the word "afraid" was in Mac Taylor's vocabulary. But there he was, sitting across from her, admitting that he had been scared.

"When I saw that knife," he continued quietly, "I thought I was going to lose you. You've…you're a friend, Michelle. A good friend. And I don't think I could stand to lose you."

Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she opened her mouth to say something in response, although nothing came to mind. Instead, she just squeezed his hand, silently letting him know that she was there, that he meant a lot to her as well.

The moment was broken when the waitress returned, bringing them their food. They finally let go of each other, their hands retreating back to their side of the table. Giving her a small smile, Mac picked up his fork and began to eat.

They ate in companionable silence for awhile, just enjoying the other's company. The hustle and bustle of the diner filled the space between them, the world around them continuing to move while they enjoyed one of the few breaks that they were afforded.

Glancing over at Mac's plate, Michelle noticed that he still had a mound of golden French fries that he hadn't touched yet. Allowing herself a smirk, she reached over and snagged one, promptly stuffing it into her mouth. Mac's jaw fell open, as he stared at her disbelief.

"You just stole my fry," he protested.

She nodded, her smile broadening at the look on his face. Seeing that she wasn't even a little ashamed of what she had done, Mac decided to retaliate, stealing one of her pickles and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.

Michelle laughed, shaking her head. "Very mature, Detective Taylor."

He joined in her laughter, pushing the pickle to the side of his mouth as he tried to talk. "Payback's a bitch." Chewing for another moment, he finally swallowed the stolen food. Then he stopped, suddenly looking abashed. "I'm sorry – I hope you don't mind other people touching your food."

She shook her head, still laughing. "If I did, I certainly wouldn't have stolen your French fry first, Mac."

He shrugged. "I had a girlfriend who used to get mad at me if I took food off of her plate – especially if I didn't ask first."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It was just one of her quirks."

Michelle looked down at her food. "Tell me about her."

Mac's eyes widened a little. "Peyton? She was the first serious relationship I had after Claire died."

"But you're not together anymore?"

"No. She decided to stay in London – that's where she's from."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged, giving her a small smile. "It was awhile ago."

They fell silent again, and Michelle struggled with her next question. Finally, she decided to just go for it. "Was it hard?"

"Letting her go, you mean?"

She shook her head. "Seeing someone after your wife?"

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, but he found that she was staring down at her plate. Sympathy welled up inside him, and he reached out to take her hand again.

"Yes."

His honest answer caught her off-guard, and she slowly raised her gaze until their eyes were locked.

"I didn't want to let her in," he continued. "I thought my life would be easier if I didn't get attached again."

"Was it?"

Mac frowned. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. People have a way of getting underneath your skin, Michelle. It gets to the point where you can't ignore it. And you shouldn't. You can't live your life completely closed off from other people. You might get hurt again, but at least you're living."

He held her gaze, and Michelle found that she couldn't look away, even if she had wanted to. She felt her pulse quicken, and she was suddenly very aware of his skin against hers as they continued to hold hands. As she quickly lost herself in his eyes, she opened her mouth, willing herself to take that next step…

"Would you two like any dessert?"

And just like that, the spell was broken. Once again, they broke contact, both staring up at the waitress sheepishly. Michelle was the first to recover, wanting nothing more than for this woman to leave them alone.

"Actually, yes," she said, forcing a smile onto her face. "Can I have a piece of chocolate cake?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart. And for you?" she asked, turning to Mac.

"I'll have a piece of apple pie, thank you."

The other woman didn't even bother to write the order down; she just smiled and walked back toward the kitchen. The two detectives sat their awkwardly, neither sure of what could or should be said. Before they could make a decision, the waitress was back, setting their desserts in front of them. Saved from having to say anything, they both dug in.

They were almost halfway finished when Mac did something unexpected. Reaching over, he batted her fork away with his own, and made an attempt to steal a piece of her cake. Laughing, Michelle fought him back, trying to keep him from getting any.

"You little thief, you!" she exclaimed.

Smiling broadly, he made another move for her cake, but this time Michelle was ready for him. She lifted her fork up a little higher before rapping it down on the back of his hand.

"Ow!" Mac complained, rubbing the back of his hand.

"You poor baby," Michelle replied, rolling her eyes. Giving him a coy smile, she cut a piece of cake with her fork before holding the utensil in front of him. "Here you go."

His eyes met hers, and she was struck by the spark that went through her entire system. Trying to keep her hand steady, she watched as he opened his mouth, leaning towards her fork. He never broke eye contact, even as he took the cake, his tongue running over his lips as he savored the taste.

Michelle couldn't breathe. Her eyes left Mac's, traveling down until they rested on his lips. She unconsciously swallowed hard, trying desperately to regain control of the situation. Mac just smiled at her and cut a piece of his pie.

"Your turn," he said quietly.

She didn't remember telling her mouth to open. Nevertheless, Mac slid the piece of pie past her lips and onto her tongue. Involuntarily, her eyes closed as she consumed it, the flavor exploding through her mouth as she let out a satisfied sigh.

When she opened her eyes again, she found Mac still staring at her. Slowly, he set down the fork, bringing his hand back up to her face. He caressed her cheek with his thumb gently, and Michelle's breath caught in her throat.

"Here you go," the oblivious waitress announced, setting the check down on the table between them. "You two have a good night."

Dropping his hand, Mac couldn't help but chuckle. He looked back up at Michelle, regarding her for a minute.

"You ready to get out of here?"

"Definitely."

She reached into her purse for her wallet, only to find that Mac had already taken the check and was paying up at the cash register. When he met her at the door, she looked at him ruefully.

"I was supposed to be treating," she scolded.

Mac shrugged. "You paid last time."

They moved outside, and he hailed her a cab; they lived in opposite directions, and they would have to take separate cabs home. He opened the door for her, but just as she went to climb in, he took a hold of her arm, forcing her to turn back around.

"I want to take you to dinner," he said quietly.

There was something in his voice that told Michelle that this was more than just a friendly request. Her heart stuck in her throat as she gave him a nervous smile.

"Yes," she whispered.

He nodded, sighing in relief. Brushing a stray hair from her face, he leaned in slowly and placed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Michelle gasped in surprise, but he was already pulling away, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

The only thing Michelle could do was nod. Getting into the cab, she gave the driver her address. She watched Mac until he was out of sight, and then leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes.


	6. Delicate

Mac slammed the phone down after he got her voicemail for the fourth time

Mac slammed the phone down after he got her voicemail for the fourth time. Glancing up, he looked at the clock again. 9:45. He turned his head to stare at her empty desk for a moment before his eyes inevitably went back to the clock. 9:45. She was never late - not even by a minute. And here it was, one hour and forty five minutes later than she normally strode through the door.

Something was wrong.

Arguing with himself for a minute longer, Mac finally stood up and grabbed his jacket. He wasn't going to be able to concentrate until he knew if she was okay. But just as he got to his office door, Stella came in.

"Hey, Mac. Is everything okay?"

"Do you have a case for me?" he asked, avoiding her question.

"No. I just came by to see say hi. See how your dinner with Michelle went last night."

Mac looked at her sharply. "How did you know about that?"

Stella shrugged. "From Michelle. She told me she wanted to take you out, a sort of thank you for saving her life. So...how did it go?"

Mac sighed, shutting the door so that they could have some privacy. "It went really well. We had a good time, we laughed, we talked..." He took a deep breath. "I asked her out."

Stella's eyes widened. "And?"

"She said yes."

A smile bloomed on his friend's face, and she clapped once in merriment. "Mac, that's wonderful!" When he didn't seem to share in her joy, Stella's face fell. "Is that not wonderful?"

"I thought it was."

"And now?"

"And now she's almost two hours late for work. She's never late, Stella. You know that."

She floundered for a moment. "That doesn't necessary mean it's about you, Mac -"

"If she were sick, she would have called in, or at least answer her phone. There's really only one possibility. Something's happened to her."

Stella wanted to argue with him, but deep down she knew that he was right. Michelle was a professional, which meant that only one thing could keep her from at least calling in - and that was physical injury.

"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

"I'm heading over to her apartment now. Hopefully she's there. If not..."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Mac shook his head. "I'll call you if she's not there. If you don't hear from me...just assume that I found her."

Stella reached out, resting her hand gently on his arm. "It'll be okay, Mac."

There was nothing he could say to that. Nodding tersely, he turned and walked out of the office.

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He had been pounding on her door for more than five minutes now. A cold and painful knot was steadily growing in the pit of his stomach, and Mac was afraid that he was going to get sick. Finally, he stopped knocking and pulled out his cell phone.

The super must have heard the urgency in his voice, because the man was coming up the stairs only a couple minutes after Mac hung up.

"I just need to see your badge," he said firmly, despite the apology in his eyes. "To cover my own ass in case Ms. Dessler gets pissed that I let you in."

Mac didn't argue with him, secretly relieved to know that Michelle lived in a good building. He showed his badge, and the man immediately pulled out his master key. Within a matter of seconds, the door was unlocked.

"Do you want me to come in with you?"

The detective shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I've got it."

He waited until the super disappeared back down the stairs. Then he pulled out his gun and took a steadying breath before pushing the door open slowly.

There were no lights on in the apartment, and the storm outside made the room dark. Rain lashed against the living room windows, and ominous grey clouds filled the sky. Mac's eyes moved across the rooms, taking everything in. There was no sign of a struggle, which was comforting, but there was also no sign of Michelle.

He took a step around the kitchen counter, and something crunched underfoot. Backing up, he looked down and saw something lying on the ground. Mac bent down and picked the object up, seeing that it was a framed picture of a happy couple.

"Tony," he whispered, immediately recognizing the man with his arm wrapped around Michelle.

A sound came from the back bedroom, keeping him from further thoughts. Raising his gun, he set the picture down on the counter and slowly moved down the hallway. Fear once again threatened to choke him, but he held it back as best he could.

When he reached the bedroom, he nudged open the door, making sure his weapon was the first thing to enter the room. The rest of his body followed, his heart pounding in his ears as he prepared himself for the worst.

But there was no way he could have prepared himself for the sight before him. Michelle sat huddled in a far corner of the room, her knees tucked tight against her chest. Her head was cradled in her arms and her shoulders shook almost violently with the force of her cries.

Mac lowered his gun, staring at Michelle in pained disbelief. He had seen the hurt in her eyes, the fear as they slowly moved closer together. He knew what it was like for your whole world to crumble in one afternoon. But he had never seen her break; he had never seen her look so fragile as she did in that moment.

A broken sob escaped her lips, and Mac shook himself out of his shock. Holstering his weapon, he was by her side in an instant, his arms reaching for her. The second he touched her, though, her head snapped up and the in her eyes almost pushed him backwards.

"Michelle..." he whispered sadly.

She shook her head, pushing him away forcefully. "No, no, no. You can't be here! We can't -"

They struggled for a minute, Michelle's cries of protest growing louder even as Mac tried to pull her close.

"No," she repeated, her voice breaking. "You have to leave. This can't –"

He cradled her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers. "It's okay," he whispered. "I promise you it's going to be okay."

Her eyes locked with his, and she just stared at him. Then her face crumbled and she buried her head in his chest, her sobs once again overcoming her. Mac sighed in relief that she was no longer pushing him away. Lowering himself to the ground, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her gently as his fingers combed through her hair.

"Talk to me," he whispered, mimicking her words from the previous night. "Don't shut me out."

She took a shuddering breath, her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt. "I forgot him," she cried.

"What?"

Michelle lifted her head, not meeting his gaze. "I was so wrapped up in you…in us…I got home, and all I could think about was you…and then it him me." She looked him straight in the eye. "Yesterday was our anniversary. It was our anniversary, and I forgot it! How could I do that, Mac? How could I forget him?"

He honestly didn't know what to say. He remembered how he had felt the first time he forgot Claire's birthday, or when he realized that he had been out having a good time with another woman, and hadn't thought about her even worse. The pain was unimaginable, and Mac knew that there wasn't a single thing that he could say to make her feel better.

But she was still looking at him, desperately hoping that he had all the answers. Instead, he leaned down, brushing his lips across her cheeks. Tasting her tears, he continued to wipe them away with his lips, closing his eyes at the way her hold on him tightened. He moved his lips to her eyelids, kissing them gently, trying to give her any comfort that he could. As he moved down her other cheek, he paused in front of her lips, giving her the chance to pull away if that was what she wanted.

Michelle didn't pull back. She let his lips move against hers softly, sighing at the contact. The kisses soon grew more powerful, as Mac claimed her mouth, the way he had wanted to for months. Nipping at her bottom lip, he slid his tongue in, moaning at the taste of her, at the way she felt in his arms.

And she kissed him back – he hadn't expected that. But Michelle met his pace, eagerly moving her lips against his as they pulled each other even closer, reveling in the feel of the other's skin.

"Michelle," he sighed.

And that was when it hit her. Pulling back, she stared at Mac in horror, her eyes wide and her mouth trembling. She looked around frantically before scrambling to her feet, disentangling herself from his arms.

"Michelle," he repeated, his voice firmer as he slowly rose to his feet as well.

She shook her head. "You have to leave. Now."

"Michelle –"

"I can't do this, Mac. Not now."

He stretched out his hand to her. "It's okay –"

She wrenched herself away from him. "Get out!" she yelled. Then her voice became smaller. "Please, Mac. Just go."

He couldn't stand the pain in her voice. Nodding sadly, not wanting her to see the tears in his eyes, he turned and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall, and out the door.

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Mac knew that he should stay away, wait for her to tell him that she was ready. But he hadn't slept at all the night before, and he needed to see her. Leaving his apartment earlier than usual, he headed over to her place, determined to at least make sure that she was okay after last night.

When he got to her building, the super was out front, fixing one of the buzzers. He frowned when he saw Mac.

"Are you here to see Ms. Dessler again?" he asked.

"Yes. Why?"

The super shrugged. "She left."

Mac stopped. "For work, you mean?"

"No. She had a suitcase with her. I heard her tell the cabby to take her to the airport."

The man kept talking, but Mac couldn't hear him as he stood there on the sidewalk, the sun beating down on him. She had left.


	7. Forgive

"Knock, knock

"Knock, knock."

Mac looked up from his paperwork to see Stella standing in front of his desk. Internally sighing, he gave her a strained smile that he hoped convinced her.

"Hey."

"Don't even try it," she stated firmly. "I know you're not okay."

"I'm f -"

"Don't."

Mac sighed again, this time out loud, and tossed his pen onto the file in front of him. "You're right. I'm not okay."

Stella nodded. "C'mon. Let's go."

"Where?"

She walked around his desk and grabbed his suit jacket. "To dinner. It's been a long day for both of us, and you're not sitting here all night for the fifth straight night. We're going to eat, we're going to drink, and you're going to talk to me. And then, you're going home," she said pointedly.

"I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?"

Stella shook her head. "No."

Rolling his eyes, Mac stood up and took his jacket from her. As he followed her out, he let himself have a small smile - he wasn't sure where he would be if he didn't have Stella looking out for him.

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"Have you heard from her?" Stella asked as they ate.

Mac shook his head. "Not a word. Her phone is off, and she hasn't answered any of the voicemails I left for her. I found out that she put in for vacation."

"How long?"

"For an indeterminate amount of time. She stated it was a family emergency and she'd be back as soon as it was dealt with."

"What do you think it was?"

His eyes met hers, and she was cut to the quick by the pain she saw in them. "It's obvious, isn't it Stella? I kissed her, and she left."

Stella reached out and took his hand. "It has to be hard for her, Mac. Remember how you were after Claire? You were a wreck the first time you admitted you were attracted to another woman. Michelle hasn't been with _anyone_ since Tony. And you two became so close..."

"I miss her," he said quietly.

"I know."

"And I need to know that she's okay," he continued. "I understand if she needs space, I just...I wish she would let me know that she's okay."

Stella thought for a moment. "I think I know where she went."

Mac looked up. "L.A.?"

She nodded. "She needs to forgive herself, Mac. She let another man into her life and into her heart. You have to give her time."

They were silent for a few minutes, both focusing on their food as varying thoughts ran through their heads. When Mac finally spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper.

"I think I'm in love with her."

Stella smirked, taking a drink. "That's funny. Because I know you are."

Mac chuckled at that. "That's good, Stell. Because I happen to know that you're in love with a certain detective."

She blushed, ducking her head. "Your point?"

He squeezed her hand. "You're happy." It wasn't a question.

"More than I ever thought I could be," she answered sincerely.

"Have you told him that?"

"I do know how to use the 'L' word, Mac."

"Oh really?"

Her smile broadened. "Last night. We said it for the first time last night."

Mac's grin matched her own. "That's good, Stella."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on. Let's get you home. I'm sure your bed misses you." As Mac moved to slip his jacket on, Stella reached out and grabbed his hand again. "She'll come back."

He didn't meet her eyes. "You don't know that."

Leaning over the table, she moved her hand to his cheek. "She'll come back to you, Mac," she whispered. "Trust me."

"How -"

"Because she loves you, too."

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Michelle had forgotten how warm the sun could be in California. It heated her skin, and just for a moment, she wished that she hadn't left. Opening her eyes, however, she realized that leaving had been her only choice.

She stood there for a long time, staring at Tony's grave. There were fresh flowers, but otherwise it looked the same as the day she had last seen it. A light breeze blew through, ruffling the petals and her hair, and she swallowed hard.

"I miss you," she said quietly. "But not as much as I think I should. It still hurts whenever I think of you, Tony, and...I wish that you were here with me." She paused, tears filling her eyes. "But I don't think about you as much as I used to...and I'm sorry for that. I started a new life, and I made new friends...I met someone. I didn't meant to. I wasn't even looking. He just showed up and now...I want to be with him, Tony. He makes me happy...he makes me feel safe. I think I might be in love with him." Michelle stopped again, the tears flowing freely down her face. There were no sobs though, and she realized that this admission didn't hurt nearly as much as she had anticipated.

"I think you'd like him," she continued. "Well, I think you'd probably argue a lot with him about procedure and rules. But he's a good man - one of the best I've ever known. I just...I hope I haven't hurt him too much. I didn't exactly tell him I was coming out here."

"I think he'll forgive you."

The voice startled her, and Michelle jumped. Turning around, though, a smile came over her as she watched Bill Buchanan striding towards her.

"You snuck up on me," she accused him gently.

He shrugged. "I've watched you come out here every day this week, Michelle," he said, moving to stand next to her. "I thought it was about time I said hello."

She reached up and hugged him then, letting herself relax into his embrace. They stood like that for a long time, two old friends comforting each other. When they finally pulled back, they turned to face Tony's grave again, Michelle leaning her head on his shoulder.

"It's good to see you, Michelle."

"I'm sorry I haven't called much."

Bill shrugged. "I know you needed space, needed to distance yourself from everything that reminded you of him."

Michelle frowned. "You said you've watched me come out here?"

He nodded. "I have friends in New York. They told me that a former agent of mine had gotten on a plane suddenly and flown out to Los Angeles. I knew you were coming to see Tony."

"Have you been keeping tabs on me?"

He shrugged guiltily. "I just needed to make sure you were doing okay."

Michelle looked down at the ground. "What else do you know?" she finally asked.

"I've heard about you and Detective Mac Taylor." He saw her close her eyes, and he turned to her, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "And there is _nothing_ wrong that, Michelle."

She looked up at him, her eyes pained. "Am I betraying him?"

"No," he said firmly. "Not at all. Tony would never want you to be alone and miserable, Michelle. You know that. It's time for you to let go. To forgive yourself for falling in love with someone else."

She glanced over at the headstone again before looking back up at Bill. "It's not like I can hurt him, right?"

Bill smiled, wiping the last tear from her eye. "Right. Nothing can hurt him now, Michelle. And it's time for you to start your life again." He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Besides, Mac Taylor is good people. One of the best, in fact."

Michelle frowned. "Do you know him?"

"Our paths have crossed a time or two. There's no one I'd trust more with your heart, Michelle."

"And you don't think I'm too late?" she asked.

He pulled a plane ticket out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "Not if you get going."

She took the ticket, looking up at him in disbelief. "How did you know I would be ready?"

"Like I said, I've watched you come out here. And every day, you stood just a little bit taller, and you cried just a little bit less. All that's left is for you to say goodbye and I'll drive you to the airport myself."

Michelle stared off into the distance for a moment. "I'll meet you in the car," she said finally.

Bill nodded and walked away. When he was gone, she turned back to the headstone, squatting in front of it and tracing her husband's name. "Goodbye," she whispered.

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Mac shook his head as he once again tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him. It was pointless red tape, but he had to get it finished by the end of the week, and he was hoping to get a head start on it. But just as he picked up his pen, his phone beeped, telling him that he had a message. Frowning, he unclipped it from his belt and read the text.

_Logan Airport, Flight 919, Gate 23, 3:38 pm. -Michelle_

Grabbing his jacket, Mac strode out of the office, a nervous grin plastered on his face.

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He paced back and forth as he waited for her plane to get in, his hands stuffed into his pockets to keep them from shaking. Hope had flared in his chest as soon as he got her text message, but the longer he waited, the tighter the knot in the pit of his stomach got. Just because she was coming back didn't mean that she was coming back to him. Maybe she was only letting him pick her up so that she could let him down gently. Shaking his head, he silently cursed himself - those kinds of thoughts weren't going to do him any kind of good.

Looking up, he saw that people were coming off of the plane. His eyes scanned the crowd, desperately seeking her out. When he finally saw her, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Her eyes found him almost immediately, and a radiant smile bloomed on her face. Mac thought that he was finally seeing her as she used to be - a strong and confident woman who enjoyed life and those around her. Michelle kept her eyes locked on him as she put her carry-on through the machine and the guard ran the wand over her. Then she picked her bag back up and walked over to him.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hi."

She dropped the bag and wrapped her arms around him. Mac immediately hugged her back, closing his eyes and breathing her in as he pulled her tight against his body. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, thanking God that she had come back, and that she was alright.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured into his ear. "I...I needed to say goodbye before I could deal with this."

Mac pulled back slightly, searching her eyes. "And did you?"

Her smile widened. "Yes."

Then she leaned in and kissed him softly. Mac closed his eyes, the nervous feeling falling away as he kissed her back. He kept one hand on her waist, while the other came up to tangle in her hair, and he tilted his head, nipping at her bottom lip and then sliding his tongue in. Michelle moaned at the feeling, pulling their bodies even closer as the rest of the world fell away. Mac was almost dizzy with the taste of her when they finally pulled back, and he rested his forehead against hers.

"Take me home," Michelle whispered.

Mac smiled. "I would love to."


End file.
